


Home is Just Another Word for You

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8.21 Coda, Angsty Schmoop, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda for 8.21</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Just Another Word for You

They get back to the bunker in record time, Kevin supporting Cas in the back seat. Dean broke all the speed limits and managed to avoid getting a ticket through some kind of miracle - maybe it was Cas, or maybe for once, just _once_ they had some _one_ or some _thing_ smiling down on them.

Dean slings Cas’s arm over his shoulder and helps him into the bunker, muttering, “I got you, Cas, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay,” under his breath, the litany more for his own benefit than Cas’s. They get Cas and Kevin situated in the infirmary, Sam fussing over Kevin, who keeps brushing Sam’s hands away.

“M’all right, Sam, leave me alone.” Kevin looks awful, but not the same kind of awful he looked in his video message - the color has bled back into his face, and the dark splotches beneath his eyes aren’t quite as pronounced now. “I’ll be fine. I just need sleep. Then I need to get back to the tablet.” Sam frowns, but shows Kevin out of the infirmary and down the hall to one of the spare rooms. Kevin’s asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

When Sam gets back, Dean is hovering over Cas, who is lying on a cot on the far side of the room, his eyes closed. His face is pale, covered in blood and Dean, for once, looks like he doesn’t know what to do. His face is crumpled, shoulders hunched over, and his hands are hanging loose at his sides. He’s frozen that way, a tableau of indecision. Sam places an enormous hand on Dean’s shoulder and murmurs, “Dean.” Dean doesn’t acknowledge Sam at all, and Sam shrugs a little and goes to get some supplies to clean Cas up.

Sam works carefully, gingerly, because he’s not sure where the injuries are, or what they are. Cas is awake, because he sort of rumbles at Sam that he’s fine, that he’ll heal up, he just needs to rest, he needs a minute. “Cas,” Sam says, “Just relax, okay?” Dean still hasn’t moved; Sam ignores his brother in favor of the bigger issue, that Cas needs to be cared for first. Other than the hum of the fluorescent lights above and the drip of water in the sink, the room is silent, almost deathly so, but Sam tries not to think about that.

Sam finally finishes, and while Cas still looks pale, still has those awful bags beneath his eyes, he’s clean, and with his eyes drooping, he looks almost peaceful. Sam washes his hands and scrubs his face. He’s exhausted too, although he feels better than he’s felt in a while. “Dean,” he says softly. He pulls over a chair and gently pushes Dean into it, knowing better than to try to get his brother to leave Cas.

Dean never takes his eyes off of Cas, but they seem to have more focus now. “Thanks, Sam,” he says. Sam nods and heads back to his own room.

After a few minutes, Cas opens his eyes and they focus on Dean, as they always do. Dean wonders if Cas would be able to find Dean in a room of a thousand people without even trying, and thinks that it’s possible that he could. “I’m all right, Dean,” Cas says. Dean huffs in silent laughter, because _of course_ Cas is trying to comfort Dean, when Cas is the one lying on the cot, looking frail and weak and in pain and all of the things that Cas shouldn’t look like because he’s an angel of the lord and he’s the strongest person Dean knows other than Sam.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Dean says, because he doesn’t know how to say anything else. He doesn’t know how to express what he’s feeling. There’s a crawling, grasping, roiling feeling in his gut and he can’t seem to draw a full breath, hasn’t been able to since he saw Cas lying on the asphalt in front of the Impala. He has so many questions, but they’re crowding in his heart and he can’t pick just one to ask because he just needs to know. He needs to know everything.

And Cas actually smiles. He smiles at Dean, a fragile thing, but a smile nonetheless, and he shifts slightly so he’s a bit more comfortable. He reaches out and grabs Dean’s hand, startling him. Cas’s hand is warm and dry, and his grasp is stronger than Dean expected given how Cas looks. Dean laces their fingers together. “So this is your home?” Cas asks.

Something eases in Dean then, and he can breathe again. He inhales sharply and lets the air out with a whoosh. “It’s ours. Our home, Cas.”


End file.
